Speechless
by TappinCastlefan
Summary: He knows the line about pictures being worth a thousand words but this one leaves him speechless. Set...somewhere in early S7.


He's really not sure what it is he's looking for, if he's even looking for something, but he does know that he's tired of sitting and not knowing and not doing and not feeling like _him_. Like everything is okay.

Kate's been asleep for a few hours and he just…isn't. Sleeping hasn't come easy since he's been back, which just compounds the problem because he can't remember being gone.

So, he's upstairs.

He tried writing, but couldn't find words that didn't remind him of being gone. He tried hot chocolate, warm milk, water, all of the things you're supposed to try when you can't sleep. But nothing worked.

So, he's upstairs marveling at the number of shimmering wrapped gifts catching the moonlight. He hadn't thought about it until he saw them. He hadn't given a second's thought to the fact that there would be wedding gifts. Wedding gifts that they never got the chance to open and thank friends and family for. Gifts that they didn't even get the chance to laugh at and rush back to the department store.

He's reading tags on the pyramid of boxes when it catches his eye. The way the box is sitting off by itself, unadorned or labeled seems…intriguing. The second he realizes why his heart plummets down into his stomach.

The box is from the photographer. The photographer who only did about a third of his job because there was no wedding or reception, but who nonetheless delivered the precious few snaps he did have.

He knows that he shouldn't touch it. It's triggering, he tells himself. It's dangerous and it's something he and Kate should do together.

But he's Richard Castle, the curious writer who can't keep his hands to himself.

So he lifts the cardboard flap and pulls out the prim white box of proofs.

The house looked incredible. Everything set just so against the brilliant blue backdrop of beach and summer sky. There are shots of everything. Photos of the boys greeting and guiding guests, Kate's dad smiling with family that he knows they hadn't seen in some time, Lanie and Alexis flitting around double and triple checking, everything.

His eyes catch the next photo, though, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe. He knows the line about pictures being worth a thousand words but this one leaves him speechless.

It's Kate.

Kate in her dress, wandering along the edge of the deck, far away from party guests and prying eyes. He can't see her face, but he hopes that she's smiling, because he doesn't know if he should as he looks at the stunning image.

He wants to. He wants to grin like an excited little boy at the first sight of his bride, but remembering that his first sight of his bride is in a photo – from months ago – guts him.

God, he doesn't even know where her dress came from.

"She wanted a few moments to herself."

He startles at his mother's voice, almost angry that it's torn him out of the fantasy of what their wedding would have been like.

"What?"

"Kate," his mother nods to the photo in his trembling hand. "There were a few minutes where she said she wanted to get out of the house. Just take things in by herself for a moment before we swarmed again," she laughs. "Oh, but she was lovely."

His mother takes a careful seat next to him on the floor, one hand resting on his bicep, the other reaching over to catch the edge of the photo.

"Yeah," he sighs, "She was. Is."

"You will get back there, you know. You and Katherine will figure things out, settle in again and then we will celebrate properly. Pull out all the stops."

"You're not going to commission flower portraits again, are you?"

"No," she shakes her head. "No. We will do things right, exactly how you two want it. However big or small, with whomever you want, or not. We'll make it perfect."

"I hope so." He nearly mumbles the words, but he knows she heard him. "Where did she get the dress?"

He almost hates himself for asking. Almost. Because he doesn't know if he should be looking or if Kate still has the dress and is planning on wearing it. But hell, he thinks, at this point how much more bad luck could they rack up?

Weren't they due for some good?

"It was her mother's. After the water damage to the gifted dress Jim mentioned it to Lanie and it was just…fitting."

His heart hurts just imagining how it felt for her to step into the gown. He doesn't know how she felt when Lanie showed it to her, how she smiled when her dad saw her in it for the first time – he has no idea about any of it. And he hates himself for that.

"I wish I could have seen it."

"Don't worry darling," his mother soothes, "you will."

"She still has it?"

"In a manner of speaking," his mother sighs and hesitates before continuing. "There…was some damage to the dress, when they found your car. Kate…she wasn't waiting and rushed to see if you were in the car, if you were alive…"

Sensing what's coming he wraps an arm around his mother, squeezes as tight as he can. They still haven't really talked about that day – none of them. They're all afraid to bring it up to each other and they all know it.

She tosses him the thinnest of smiles and goes on, telling him about how Kate let herself get doused in water in her determination and how the pristine white dress was tragically escorted through the mud.

"She was thinking of taking it to a dressmaker to see what could be salvaged into a new dress."

He lets her keep talking but tunes her out, eyes focused on the photo of Kate and the beach, imagining what she looked like and what she will look like on the day they make it down the aisle. Because they will – he refuses to let anything else stand in their way.

They will get married and she will get to wear her mother's dress. 

* * *

><p><em>It's not my best but this has been in my head since June and I've been dying to get back into writing some fic again. Will gladly take prompts here or on tumblr pursuitoftappiness. <em>

**_Tappin  
>=)<em>**


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